


Allargando

by entanglednow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work is a familiar excuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allargando

Some days are longer than others. They didn't even necessarily have to be hard days, or even bad days. They just went on too long, stretched past what felt fair, gradually crushing you under the weight of them. Lestrade knows enough about them to realise that you just had to grit your teeth and ride them out.

So when he eventually does get home and finds an umbrella tipped against the wall he doesn't quite have the energy to be either annoyed, or surprised.

He throws his own coat and jacket somewhere where they may, or may not, end up on the floor via the wonders of gravity. Then he wanders the rooms until he finds Mycroft, reading files in his overly bright kitchen.

He appears to have been here long enough to have made himself a cup of something, finished it, and rinsed everything he used. The cup's resting on the drainer.

Lestrade doesn't bother to ask how Mycroft got into his house. Because, quite frankly, Mycroft could say 'magic' and he'd be hard pressed to prove otherwise. He should be more angry about that, since 'detective' was one of the more important parts of his job description. Mycroft is engrossed, or is pretending to be engrossed, in a folder of dubious origin.

Lestrade reaches out and pushes the whole folder down, grabs a fist full of tie, most likely brutalising it beyond repair. Then he simply keeps pulling until he gets Mycroft's attention - most of Mycroft's attention. He goes for at least 80%, and makes a mess of his hair while he's at it.

When he lets him go, the man's significantly more rumpled than before.

Mycroft doesn't even glance down at the tie, though Lestrade suspects that the state of it won't have slipped his notice. It's not like he doesn't have more ties, some probably exactly the same as this one. Sherlock could probably tell them apart. But Sherlock's insufferable - and it seems Mycroft's vocabulary is contagious.

"Today has been a very long day and I've been looking forward to it ending since about lunchtime, which was far, far too many hours ago."

Mycroft opens his mouth, and Lestrade pushes his jaw shut, which he thinks is particularly daring of him. But when Mycroft talks everyone gets distracted.

"You get to use your phone three times tonight," Lestrade says firmly. "Any more than that and it goes in the microwave."

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, Lestrade can see calculations going on behind his eyes.

"I shall start counting from when I come out of the shower," Lestrade says, because he's feeling generous.

He heads for the stairs.

"And take that damn tie off, it's a mess."

He hears the chuckle all the way upstairs.


End file.
